Lies
by Bella Regia
Summary: He was the life she didn't have and the love she couldn't feel anymore. What does she have left except memories? *AU/AH*
1. Silence

I sit at the kitchen table, my head in my hands. I can't help the tears that fall fast on the surface, gathering like pathetic oceans. A cup of coffee waits patiently, listening, and that cup is to blame.

With no warning at all, an avalanche of memories crashed on my head, arriving uninvited, slithering into my mind; I wasn't able to shut them out this time. The cup of coffee waits patiently in front of me, with only my tears to keep it company this morning.

It's been three years, and I thought that I'd forgotten everything, but the heart never forgets. Not really. It only gets used to the absence. And I can still remember what he said that day, and I cry even harder.

"_I'm trying to quit smoking, Bella," he says, tapping ashes onto the ground._

"_It _is _a terrible vice," I answer, threading my fingers through his unkempt hair. _

"_No more than coffee," he replies, smiling and holding me, so close._

"_That's not true." I press my lips to his. __"I can give up coffee anytime I want, Edward."_

It was him I couldn't give up. It makes me wonder, if each night was worth it. The uncertainty of not knowing if he'd be back. I thought about losing him and my heart pounded as if I were dying, and my head would spin and my mind tumbled into an abyss. Watching him sleep, I would trace his features with the tip of a finger, and think. _I don't know what I'll do when you don't come back to me, when you tell me you've fallen in love with someone else, that this cannot go on… and it'll hurt so much, knowing I wasn't enough to keep you. __That I couldn't make you mine. Because you _want_ me, but you don't _love_ me. _

I trace the coffee cup, trying to pretend that his lips had touched the rim, that he is still real. Pretending that he had heard me when I had whispered in his ear as he slept beside me.

_I don't want your kisses today if you can't promise me I'll have them tomorrow. I don't want you to make me not need you… you're the air around me, but I can't breathe. _

_If I close my eyes, is the world still here? I cannot forget… I can only get used to your absence._

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**Okay, so this is a lot different than what I'm used to writing… tell me what you think. Chapters will be kind of on the short side, as will ****the whole story. This is pretty much written out already, so look for regular updates. Oh, you can look for me on twitter under Cordy_Q. If you like. **


	2. Today

**This is an angsty kind of ride. ****If it's not your thing, you don't have to read anymore and no hard feelings. Go check out any of my other stories in my profile, which are more of a HEA. Again: find me on twitter at: Cordy_Q**

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I hear the buzzing of an electric razor coming from upstairs. I know perfectly well who is in the bathroom, and I hate myself for wishing it were somebody else. A desperate scream is fighting to rip out of my throat, and I grit my teeth, trying to kill it.

This is a lost war, and an angry grunt escapes from my lips. I smash the coffee cup on the floor. Pieces skitter under the table, under the fridge, while the steaming liquid advances slowly on the kitchen tile. Barefoot, I walk gladly on the remains of the cup, wishing with all my soul the shards could cut deep, deep into my heart.

I remember sinewy hands, emerald-green eyes, and reddish-brown hair that autumn itself would envy. I wish I could run outside, shoeless, to search and find him. I want to tell him I am sorry, that I regret so much, and that I still cannot forgive myself.

But I creep closer to the sink, ignoring the stabbing of my feet and the bloody footprints they leave in their wake. I grab a dishcloth and prepare to clean up the mess I've made, because there is nothing else to do now.

I scrubbed at the brown stain on the tiles. Irrelevantly, I recalled the words that would tumble heedlessly from my mouth when his lips found mine. Nonsense, heartfelt nonsense.

"_I wish I could always be as I am. To be completely silent and know there is no such thing as perfection, but when I'm with you, I'm so close, it makes me afraid."_

I rest on my knees, pulling my hair back with a grimy, sopping hand. I don't care. Because it doesn't feel at all like if it were Edward's hand, pushing my hair aside to kiss my bare shoulders and that comforts me.

"_To hear you breathing next to me is enough to feel that I am __at the center of the universe. Yours. I was born to know you and then know myself."_

I wipe my dirty hands on my jeans. I slump back, resting my back on the kitchen cabinets. I pick ceramic chips from the soles of my feet, not bothering to wince at the sting. I'm happy just to feel anything. My mind is jumping all over the place, and I'm scared that it might finally fracture. Though it might be a relief, to finally open the gates for the flood.

I stare at the soiled dishcloth, noticing its dark blue color for the first time. The color brings back unwelcome flashes of dark blue sheets sliding over smooth skin.

"_What about your hands?" he whispers next to my ear, while his own hands trap mine, twining our fingers and pressing them into the bed._

"_Today, they're yours—just so I can touch you all over," I say, struggling to breathe normally. He lands butterfly kisses on my eyelids, which close involuntarily. I would much rather watch him watch me. _

"_And your eyes?" he continues, leaning back to __look at me. I return his gaze, anxious and heavy-lidded. _

"_Yours, too. __I can see myself reflected in them." _

"_Bella…" his voice trails off, and he nudges my nose with his._

_I inhale his heady scent, honey and spice and _him_. My hands are suddenly free and I feel him dragging his fingers down my body. I fist the night-blue sheets at the sensation, my mouth now trembling as he drops feathery kisses down, down, further down…_

"_My nose is yours, so I can memorize your scent mingled with mine. My lips are yours, to kiss, to destroy. My ears, so I can listen to you call my name. __All of me, everything. Body and soul."_

The dark blue sheets had been everywhere. I bring my knees to my chest, trying to hold myself together. I rock back and forth, hating the feel of the body that no longer belongs to me.


	3. Seasons

I let the memories wash over me, trickling slowly until they seep into my very bones. It has been awhile since I allowed them such freedom. They have been gone so long; they struggle to get at me, each recollection vying to hurt me first.

_His fingers play me deftly, as though they've known me forever even though it's our first time together. This has been a long time coming, and I drink in his body like he's water and I'm dying from thirst._

_He kisses down my thighs, sucking, nipping, licking. His mouth finds my center and I arch into him, whimpering. __We'll never say the words. __But he understands, and so do I. We don't need them. I don't need to hear them. _

_If his touch is able to redeem everything that is wrong in my life, if I can feel his breath in my ear, if I breathe him in, then everything is alright. If there is no light, but I can see him, if there are no words but I can hear him, if there is no reason but I can understand it, then everything is alright._

_I'm so close to the edge, but I want him to fall over with me. I tug on his tousled hair, urging him to kiss my lips instead. He complies, his hands gripping my hips, and I do the same. Without further hesitation, he pushes into me, and I stifle my cry against his shoulder. He is my first, and I want him to be my last._

_He stills inside me, trembling, murmuring sweet apologies for the stinging pain. I shake my head, and press against his lower back. He understands and moves again, slowly, slowly. I know instinctively that there will be little pleasure in this for me, but I am content to give Edward his. _

_As he comes, his mouth finds mine; words tumble like blessings, over and over. He finally rests his head against the crook of my neck, one arm splayed across my stomach; his other hand traces over my chest. _

"_This is what you do to me," he murmurs, listening to the frantic beating of our hearts. We go to sleep on the tangled blue sheets. There is a sweet nostalgia in the air, for something I had yet to live through._

_I close my eyes, and fall in love again._

I open my eyes, and realize I have left the kitchen and am halfway up the stairs. There is the sound of water running from the bathroom. I avoid the door and climb to the attic. This is a bad idea, I know, but I can't help myself. Like a wound you know could heal if you would just stop picking at it till it bleeds.

The box is still there, tucked into the deep recesses of the dusty garret. The air is stifling, but it doesn't matter—I can barely breathe as it is. I pick my way over the clutter, and drop to my knees as if in prayer. Hoping for protection from the demons in this box.

It's there, nestled at the very top for me to find. I pull at the crinkled piece of looseleaf, and his handwriting hits me like a punch in my gut. I remember finding it inside my coat pocket one night as I left his place.

_Paint me a grey sky… let it rain in my heart. _

_I can be the ground you walk on, eternal sun and spring._

_Give me days of sunshine… let it burn in my eyes. _

_I can warm like the heat, speak like summer._

_Sing to me like the wind… let it pass me by. _

_I can soar like the birds, take you with me like the leaves of autumn._

_Protect me from the cold… let me get lost in your arms. _

_I can be your ending, and forget you like winter._

These are the words I shouldn't have wanted, the words I shouldn't dwell on. Unbidden memories rise, fleeing the confines of the cardboard. It is filled with _him_, and I don't remember keeping the box, and I don't have anyone to blame.

But it's _his _fault I learned how to kiss. It is his fault I daydream, but sometimes wake up screaming. It's his fault my world is turned upside down. It is his fault I sneak out at three in the morning, just to make another memory. It's his fault I imagine his scent saturates my skin. It is his fault the sky closes over my head when I try not to think of him. His fault, his fault, his fault.

It's his fault I love him.

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**We're getting closer to the mystery of Bella's drama. ****Little tiny lemon in there. Sort of. Does it qualify? Please R&R!**


	4. Why

**So many of my awesome stories updated this week they shamed me into doing the same! Check them out in my faves. **

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Hope is the last thing to die, but it should be the first thing we should kill. We should drown it in tears and let it burn in the rage that scorches the center of our hearts. Just to have it rise from the ashes.

"_You promised…"Quiet words spoken in the dark. _

Such a stupid promise. I make my way back to the kitchen, and catch the light glinting off the damp floor and the ceramic chips I didn't manage to pick up.

As much as there was light between us, there was also darkness. I couldn't find it in me to explain away his dark moods and stony silences that sometimes claimed him. We had our bad days, oh yes.

"_You said it! We both did!" he shouts. "I won't go to another movie without you. That was it."_

"_Yeah, I get that," I say, borderline patient. "But—"_

"_So that little promise, it meant nothing to you?" His face flushes with indescribable anger. For a second, it makes me afraid, before I realize that there is something else underlying this rage. And not knowing what it is makes me finally lose my temper too._

"_It was one movie, for fuck's sake!" I scream back, my calm demeanor gone. "She's my mother, what was I supposed to say?" I start walking towards him, equally as angry._

"_No! You say no! That you are keeping a promise to me!" __Edward turns his back to me and paces back and forth away from me. _A stupid promise_, I think, and then I'm seeing red. _

"_I can't say that to her! What is she going to think?" Now I'm shouting; this is turning into an fight again. _

_At this, he turns to me and strides forward. I stumble back and he catches me before I fall, pushing me into a wall. He places his hands next to my face, leaning into them as he gets closer. His breath is hot and his eyes are wild as he stares into mine. _

"_You tell her that you love me. That you are keeping a promise to me, no matter how _stupid_." His tone is now low and calm, and infinitely more dangerous. I'm not afraid of him hitting me, but I am afraid of him leaving me, so I lash out._

"_I'd rather speak to you, and not see you, than hear nothing from you. I'd rather you tell me you hate me, than have you feel nothing for me. I'd rather have you like this, halfway, than not have you at all. I'd rather you hurt me, damage me, _destroy_ me, than feel nothing at all. _

_So why are you still here? Why are _we_ still here?" I shove my hands into his chest. He doesn't budge, but his hands drop from the wall. Edward doesn't answer my question. I feel he is one beat away from walking out the door. My body reacts, and I reach out and slap him. Hard. _

_The crack resounds in the stony silence that follows, and the imprint of my hand stands out against his skin. His green eyes find my brown ones; I reach out again, this time to soothe the hurt I caused, but he takes my hand roughly by the wrist. He pulls up my other hand as well and pins them against the wall. His whole body presses into mine. _

"_For all those coffees you haven't drunk. All those sidewalks we haven't covered. All those movies we haven't seen. The mornings we haven't been. All those times I haven't held your hand. The ways we haven't danced. The tears we haven't cried," Edward's voice half-snarls, half-murmurs into my hair. "The cookies we haven't eaten. The cities we haven't visited. All those times I haven't held you. The songs you haven't sung. The nights we haven't slept. The afternoons that haven't rained. All those poems I haven't yet written you. The skies we haven't searched for, the moons I haven't found you in, the kisses we haven't shared. All the words I haven't said… that's why we're still here. Why _I'm_ still here."_

I stand at the sink again, my feet aching with the shallow cuts. I stare out the window, at the cheery magnolia tree bobbing in the breeze. _He _knew how I loved magnolias. I wonder if I'll be able to get away today, but there probably won't be enough time.

The sounds coming from the upstairs bathroom have stopped, and I think I hear him in the bedroom as he finishes his morning routine. I hope against hope that he'll still be awhile in there. I don't want him to see my face, tear-stained and lost, a face that clearly grieves for something he cannot possibly know.

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	5. Twilight

_Sitting alone on the park bench, it's that magical time after sunset, before night falls. Dusky light settles all __around me, as I watch my hands bathe in the iridescent violet-blue of twilight. If I were surrounded by darkness, perhaps you'd be here with me._

_I light up a cigarette and smoke it slowly. I tap more ashes onto the ground than the number of drags I pull from the cigarette. I look at my watch… there's still time—or hope._

_The sun is long gone, and the heat of the afternoon yields to a soft summer breeze. I remember how much I like summertime, those endless months of bare feet and sleepless nights. You like winter, I know. There's something about the cutting November wind and December rain that claims a part of you I don't understand. _

_People are out for runs, jogs, walking dogs. I light another __cigarette and this one I smoke in full, inhaling deeply, pretending it's your scent. The honey and lilac and spice… but to remember really hurts._

_The twilight fades in between cigarettes and __stolen glances at my watch. Everything takes on a bluish tinge, and a deeper darkness falls. People clear out of the park, and all I have is an empty pack and a seat beside me on the bench.  
_

_Tomorrow is my wedding day, and despite the wait, I don't think it strange that you haven't showed up. This man I'll marry is not the one in my dreams, but life has taught me that dreams and hopes are meant to be tucked away in drawers, tightly shut. I won't need them again. I cannot imagine walking down the aisle, heading for the altar, and knowing it will not be you who meets me there. That I will not spend the rest of my life with you. _

_It's been hours, and I finally accept that you won't be coming. I lean my head into my hands and I can only feel the tears streaming. Slowly, gently, because I don't really want them. I cry silently, so quiet that no one looks at me or asks why I'm dying._

_It's getting late. I get up, searching for Kleenex in my jean pockets, but I don't have any. I settle for wiping at my eyes with the back of my hands and I start walking. There is nothing left of this afternoon but the night and a bitter taste on my tongue—salt and nicotine. I'm only betrayed by the wet tracks of my tears drying on my cheeks. I have no choice—I must go look for you, even though I'm afraid of finding you._

_I stand in front of your place, opening the gate slowly, as though it would wake you up. J__ust thinking about that feels like a stab in my stomach—half-sadness, half-joy. My head is a confusing spiral of thoughts and words, so big, so awkward, and so irrelevant now that for a moment, I can't breathe. _

_I walk to the place where you are… my heaven, my earth, my very sea. Yes, the joy of seeing you again is greater than the fear of finding you here. Soon, they'll come to tell me that I have to leave, but in the meantime, there's just you and me, like always. _

_My only wish is to be with you… and never part from you. I wish they had to pry you from my arms and seal my lips so I can never say your name again. _

I still grip the sink, remembering that night before my wedding; there's yet another night before that visit to his place that also helped destroy my hopes forever.

_The phone rings incessantly. I scramble for my bag, still laughing at her joke as I file through the contents of the purse for my cell. I find it and __press it to my ear. _

"_Hey, what's up?"_

"_Bella."_

_I check the caller ID and note that yes, it's indeed Alice. It's his sister. Why is she calling me?_

"_Yeah, how are you?"_

"_I'm… Bella, are you alone?"_

"_No, I'm with Rose. What's up?"_

"_You need to get here now. "_

_Go where? What is she talking about? __I signal to Rose to hold on as I cover my other ear, blocking out the hum of the restaurant and wincing at the static coming from the other end of the call._

"_Alice, I can barely hear you. What's all that noise?"_

"_I'm at the hospital. Edward's here."_

_I lurch to my feet, spilling a glass of __red wine across the white tablecloth. Rose rises with me, and clutches my elbow before I fall back. Shit shit shit. _

"_Alice?"_

"_Bella… he… the motorcy—"_

_I hang up and am out the door, running for my car. Rose catches up, pulling at me and directs me to hers. I'm no condition to drive. My hands shake and there's a high-pitched whine in my head. It takes me a moment to realize it's coming from me. _

_We race to the hospital, hoping he's okay. Hoping he'll be fine. Hoping…_

I'm caught between the past and the present. They seem so intertwined at times, and I can't seem to pull myself out of the turmoil. It happens so every once in awhile. But the sense of loss has never been as strong before. It feels like the first time, every time I let this happen. And every time I promise myself that it won't happen again, that I can't let it. And every time, I break my promise.

_The memory of you is my worse torment and my best comfort. I wait for you every afternoon since you've been gone, and I _know_ that you won't come, but I can't help it. The flowers I left yesterday are still here. I like purple tulips, magnolias, and white lilies, but you preferred gerbera daisies. I remember._

_You are out of my life, but not gone from my heart. My mind says one thing, but my heart another. I can't stand the struggle between my need to touch you again and the obstinacy of wanting to believe you are still alive. _

_I still think of you. Forgetting would be much easier if you had never kissed me; if I needed anything more than that to remember you it would be admitting that to forget you is even possible. _

_All I have left is the infinite sadness of knowing the difference between sleeping with someone and sleeping next to someone—and not wanting to ever wake up._

**One chapter to go… **


	6. Safe

"Good morning," he says, entering the kitchen.

I smile briefly, trying to keep my mouth from grimacing as he kisses me. I turn to the window again, hugging myself, cupping elbows in my hands. I turn my back on him. He steps up to the coffeemaker, pouring while he talks about his coming workday. My mind wanders down blue roads and scarlet worlds, filled with cigarette smoke, plucked guitar strings, and other kisses so fervent in their desire they still burn on the lips.

I can hear different voices in my ear, voices long since forgotten on the wind…

"_Marry me, Bella. Let's get married on Tuesday," he says, taking a drag on his cigarette._

_I hold his gaze for a second, two, ten, minutes, never dropping my eyes from his._

I glance at him, leaning against the counter, while he rambles on about meetings and schedules. He hasn't changed since the day I met him, since the day he begged for a chance to change my mind and save me. I didn't really believe he could repair the damage, and I was proven right, again and again. I can no longer remember what took me to cling to this man to try and save what little was left of myself.

"_Why?" I ask, finally breaking the silence; my heart pounds erratically._

_Edward stops for a moment, thinking, considering. "So I can be with you always."_

"Are you listening to me?" The voice seeps into my memories of a life long since dead. He reaches over and lays his hand on my shoulder. I cannot help it; my skin crawls and cringes at his touch. _It's not him, but I cannot have him. _I relax my shoulders.

"Yes, sorry." I bow my head, mindlessly twisting and twirling the rings on my finger.

And what if he should be the one to apologize? Or should I apologize for not loving him, for not being able to love, for deceiving him so well? It is a world full of deceit. An art I have perfected with the passing years, from the cups of coffee in the mornings until the cotton sheets envelop us at night.

Lies.

**And so we are at the end of this strange journey. ****Love it, hate it? R&R please! Will try to post more **_**Regresa **_**by Wednesday. Thanks for reading!**


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